Terms and Conditions
by canadduh
Summary: Hayden Skinner, a grad student from Seattle, ends up in London. A London where Sherlock Holmes is a real person and she really wishes she had read the terms and conditions before accepting help from Mycroft Holmes. Not that she had a choice, considering she doesn't technically exist. Sequel posted!
1. Cobblestone

The sound of hooves on a cobblestone street was what alerted her to the fact that something was different. More than different, it was wrong, there were no horses in the middle of Seattle, well not really, and there were no cobblestone streets, well, not really. Sure, the occasional police patrol was on horseback and in the more touristy areas you could find cobblestone. However, she should have been at home, where she had been the moment before.

Hayden glanced at her watch to check the time, in case she had just not been paying attention to where she was going or something like that, only to see that it still said 11:44. Which was the exact time she had gotten her lazy ass off the couch to do the dishes, a task she had obviously not completed.

Normally at this time of the day Hayden would have been at school or at her nannying job, however, the family she nannied for was on vacation and she was on spring break herself. When she went back to school she would be completing her last quarter of graduate school in order to obtain her masters in both education, drama, as well as a certificate in psychology, something she only recently discovered was a thing.

A honk of someone's car horn brought it to Hayden's attention that she was about to step into the middle of a busy street. At some point in her musings, she had started to walk. Realizing, again, that she was not at her house anymore.

"I must be taking some freaky shit," Hayden said as she looked around the area. The street was busy with both pedestrians and vehicles. Red double deckers and black taxis sped past, causing Hayden to do a double take.

"Nope," Hayden said before turning and walking into the nearest cafe, "I'm dreaming."

She sat down at a table without ordering anything and put her hands on her head, lowering her elbows so they rested on the flat surface. She planned on just waiting for the dream to end. One of her roommates should be home soon and they would probably wake her up.

When she checked her watch again it said 12:01 and she let her head slip past her hands to land with a thud on the table. She then looked around the cafe she was in, noting that the time on the clock was eight in the evening. Hayden quickly put the pieces together and decided that she was most definitely dreaming.

"I can't possibly be in the U.K." She assured herself as she pinched her arm with her eyes closed. When she opened them and nothing had changed she sighed, "this is officially the most bizarre trip of my life. And I don't even do drugs."

Hayden shook her head before standing to go outside. She was just about to go to the door when she ran into someone. The other person prevented her from falling back and she gave them a grateful smile.

"Sorry, I'll watch where I'm going next time," Hayden apologized, the other person just gave her a nod before walking past her and up to the counter.

Hayden was halfway down the block when she realized that the person she had run into looked like a celebrity that she knew from a show that she avidly followed. She turned to walk back to the shop before realizing how stalkerish that would be of her.

"Damn," She groaned as she continued down the street, waiting to wake up.


	2. Parks and Rec(reational singing)

Three days.

She had been in London for three days.

Sleeping like a vagrant on the streets, which, in a way, she was. She had fifteen American dollars in her pocket which were worth around ten pounds. She had ten pounds to her name plus the clothes on her back.

Hayden was lucky she had found a coat the first day and was able to dry it out at a laundromat without being caught.

She was also lucky that she could sing because that had gotten her a few extra pounds on the second and third days. She was becoming less and less convinced that she was dreaming and more convinced that she /had/ been dreaming. That her life in America had been a dream to help her escape reality.

But that may have been the lack of sleep talking. Hayden had gotten maybe three hours of sleep in the few days she had been there. She was usually moving from place to place, walking from park to park and square to square, hoping that she'd find something out.

She'd stopped at the library for a few hours earlier that day to find out that it was February Fifteenth, two thousand and ten. Of the fifteenth of February two thousand and ten, because she was in London and the Brits were odd.

She'd almost got hit by a car near Piccadilly because she forgot that they drove on the left side of the road in the U.K. She'd stepped in front of a taxi and a young man with sandy blonde hair had pulled her back.

"Careful, love," The man had said, "we do things differently here."

Hayden had just nodded before walking away, keeping her head down.

Now Hayden was in Hyde park, reading the Evening Standard as she sat on a bench. She was looking at the local news when a movement caught her eye.

She looked up to see an older man leaning on a cane, walking next to a man about the same age wearing glasses. The first man looked put out by something while the second one looked thoughtful. Hayden had a weird deja vu moment but shook it off. There was no way she could have experienced this before.

She shook her head and folded up the paper before heading off in the opposite direction of the two men, in search of a good place to perform for the day.


	3. Pink

Three weeks.

Hayden had been sleeping on the streets for three weeks.

She'd managed to find a set of abandoned, unarmed, and decently warm, flats near Brixton. She was glad to finally be out of the crowded, and dangerous, Central London. On her tenth day in the city Hayden had nearly been mugged, she would have been if some good samaritan hadn't called out to her, pretending to be her beloved.

The two had parted shortly after, Hayden not wanting to get involved with anyone. She was trying to figure out what had happened to her and slowly getting more and more closed off. Obviously, she was insane and she did not want to inflict that on anyone else.

So there she was, sitting in a flat in Brixton when she heard footsteps. She supposed it could have been another homeless occupant, the flat had a few of those, but one of the sets sounded almost forced. She was curious as to why so she crept out of the room to see an old man with a newsboy cap and a woman dressed horrendously in pink.

She had another deja vu moment, something that hadn't happened since she had been at hyde park on her third day in London. She shook her head and crept back into the room she had claimed, moving to the corner and hoping the duo didn't enter. She didn't care what others got up to as long as it didn't involve her.

On the floor below her, she heard a door open and she let out a sigh of relief. Then she had a flash of concern for the woman. If she was about to get raped or killed then it would technically be Hayden's fault for not stopping it.

But there was nothing she could do. There were no phones in the building, she had no weapons, and she was pretty sure she saw the newsboy man holding a gun. There was no point in getting herself killed.

So instead, Hayden carefully made her way out of the building and into the night, looking for the nearest telephone booth to call the cops in. She had just left the booth when she saw a cab drive by and the profile of the newsboy man caught her eye. She saw a flash of pink in the back seat and let out a small breath.

Obviously, the cabbie had made a mistake.


	4. Of Incidents and Injuries

Week three day four found Hayden in an alley near some college with severe injuries. She knew it could have been worse but the sudden influx of cops in the area had obviously deterred the group attacking her from going any further.

She doubted that the cops were for her. She'd been following the cabbie in another cab when she had gotten out two blocks before the college. She had paid and he had driven off when Hayden first felt someone grab her. She'd tried to fight back but she didn't even know how to throw a proper punch.

Something she learned about herself when she broke her hand attempting to punch one of the men.

The man had laughed and punched her jaw, at the very least knocking it out of the socket. Hayden suspected it was broken, though. That would be just her luck. She had then been bruised and battered by the group of three men until they had heard approaching sirens.

Hayden was not holding out hope that they would find her. She was trying to move towards them only to find that she couldn't get her legs to work. With a frown Hayden gave up her attempt to move, instead praying that someone would find her.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Adding this here because this chapter is so short. This story is going to be told in short chapters, pretty_ _much being_ _scenes. This way I can post more ofter. If you have any questions or anything you want to see happen, please let me know. I'm not abandoning any stories. I've just had this idea bouncing in my head and it's practically writing itself anyways._**

 ** _-Ryn_**


	5. DI Lestrade

Apparently, her prayers weren't ignored. She woke up, what she was told, two days later with a floating feeling in her body. She felt detached and somewhat aloof like nothing mattered anymore.

The doctor informed her that the feeling was because of the medicine she had been given after surgery. She had apparently been punched in her spine, which would explain why she couldn't move her legs, and would have to undergo a copious amount of physical therapy, and potentially more surgery, to be able to walk again. Her left arm was in a cast and placed into a sling that was tight against her body to prevent her from moving it.

Hayden took it all in rather well, but she blamed the morphine they had her hooked up to for that. She requested to have it removed, the stuff was addicting and even in her half-drugged state she was concerned about getting dependent.

Several times over the next several days she regretted that decision. Especially the first time they had her sit up. It had pulled and tugged on areas that she hadn't even known were injured. The doctors had almost put her back on the morphine before she had started panicking about it. Instead, they gave her something that would just numb the pain without the chance of her getting addicted.

She'd been hospitalized for a week when she realized that no one had called her by her name. And she only realized this because a cop had shown up in her room at some point while she was sleeping and she was asked her questions about herself.

"What's your name, sweetheart," The man asked with a kind smile. He was an older man with graying hair wearing a nice suit Hayden thought her looked familiar but she couldn't be sure.

"It's Hayden, sir," She told him honestly, already know that he wouldn't find a record of her anyways, "Hayden Skinner."

"Where do you live, Hayden?" The man asked after jotting some notes down.

"The lovely streets of London," Hayden said with a satirical grin, "one night it was Green Park near Buckingham, the next it was Regents, the nex-"

"Okay," The man interrupted, rather rudely, "Where are you from."

"Seattle," Hayden said, sobering up, "Seattle, Washington."

"And when did you come to London," The man asked.

"About a month ago, I think," Hayden said

"And why are you here?" The man asked.

"Because I got beat up by three men after trying to find a new place to sleep," Hayden half lied, not wanting to tell the man she had been following the cabbie, as she had been doing since the lady in pink in Brixton.

"Okay, so-"

"What's your name?" Hayden asked, wanting to take the attention off her situation before she became overwhelmed. She could feel herself breathing heavier than normal, "I think it's only fair since I told you mine."

"Lestrade, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."


	6. The British Government

Hayden was moved to a nicer room three days later. She was extremely confused as to why until a suited man entered, leaning on an umbrella. She regarded the man quietly, waiting for him to speak.

"Hayden Skinner," The man said, "You do know there's no record of you, yes?"

"Kind of hard to miss, sir," Hayden said, playing along with the man.

When she had been properly introduced to Lestrade she had passed out due to an influx of information overwhelming her mind. The doctors had determined then that it was too risky to overwhelm her. She was becoming frustrated with how gently they were treating her now.

"And why is that, Hayden?" The man asked, tilting his head to the side and regarding the young woman.

She knew what he saw. A young woman with sunken eyes and an ashen complexion. Wispy brown hair that fell to her shoulders and looked brittle and ready to fall out. A body that was nearly skin and bones and covered in yellowing bruises. It was what she saw on the one occasion she had seen herself in the mirror.

"Maybe I'm on the run from an international gang. Maybe I angered the current emperor of North Korea. Or it might possibly be that I'm running from an abusive relationship with Donald Trump." Hayden said, all of it sarcastically, "Or it might be, possibly, none of your business."

The man, with a speed she didn't think him possible of, was suddenly next to her bed with the umbrella laid out across her neck. She blinked up at him with an almost manic smile and a matching gleam in her eyes.

"Do it," she whispered, "It's not like it matters, no one's gonna miss me and nobody's gonna know it was you."

After a moment the man backed away, lowering himself into a chair and placing the umbrella between his knees before giving it a twirl. He regarded Hayden for a moment, who watched him with the same blank expression he was giving her.

"You're interesting," The man said, "I can't get a read off of you."

"Might be because I haven't showered in a month and a half," Hayden deadpanned.

"My name is Mycroft," The man introduced, "I'm going to be your patron."

"And what would I need a patron for?" Hayden questioned.

"Hospital bills, a chair, therapy," Mycroft said, sounding bored, "Which, if you're not a UK citizen, has to be paid for by you or your insurance. And since you don't exist, Ms. Skinner, you might need a ."

"Fun," Hayden remarked, "And why are you so interested in me?"

"Because I saw you following the cabbie," Mycroft said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the umbrella, "You were following him before even Sherlock was."

"I saw him walk in with that pink lady in Brixton," Hayden said with a shrug, "So when I found him again I decided to follow because I thought it would be interesting," She gestured to her legs, "I wasn't wrong."

"Most people wouldn't have followed him, they would have called the cops," Mycroft remarked innocently.

Hayden shrugged before asking, "And in return for you helping me, quite literally, get back on my feet what would you have me do?"

"That's more like it," Mycroft said with a smirk.


	7. 221 C Baker Street

Hayden was released from the hospital three weeks later. She was wheeled out by a woman apparently called Allison, not that Hayden believed her. She knew for a fact that she had been called Anthea at one point.

"He couldn't even pick me up himself?" Hayden whined as the chair was strapped down in the van and she was moved into a seat with specialized straps to help keep her stable. Hayden felt grateful that there wasn't a crowd and that Mycroft's employees weren't staring too much.

"Mr. Holmes had a meeting come up, Ms. Skinner, he sends his apologies," Allison said, no hint of sincerity in her voice.

"Whatever," Hayden grumbled as the doors were shut and the van sped off.

Over the past three weeks, Mycroft and the occasional Allison (or Anthea, or Elizabeth, or Margaret) were her only company. When Allison was there the two talked about the going ons of London's, mainly government details, how things worked and what not. When it was Hayden and Mycroft the two discussed a cover story of sorts, except it wasn't exactly a 'cover', considering most of the details were true.

She was going to be working for Mycroft and living at 221C Baker Street. Evidently, it was the only place that Mycroft could find for cheap enough to make accessible to her.

And that was because Mrs. Hudson had a soft heart and gave Hayden a year for free since she hadn't been renting out the flat anyways. Hayden found it terribly cliche and boring. She didn't want to live in a place where she had to interact with anyone, as she was being expected to interact with Sherlock, apparently.

Mycroft had said part of their deal was that she needed to keep him updated of the going ons at 221B when she wasn't busy with the work he would be giving her. Apparently, Hayden was going to be a glorified babysitter and a second P.A, working closely with Allison, who was at the time Elizabeth.

"Ms. Skinner," Allison said, gaining the woman's attention, "we're here."

"Joy," Hayden replied, before preparing herself to be lifted into the chair by two strangers. She was getting better at getting out of the chair but wasn't quite to the point where she would be able to get from the seat of the van to the chair on the ground.

Hayden rolled herself to the ramp that had been set up leading a platform just big enough for her chair. The knocked on the door and was surprised at the quick answer, almost letting go of the wheel she was holding to keep herself still.

"Oh dear," The woman who answered, Mrs. Hudson, breathed, obviously not expecting the tired looking Hayden. She quickly shook her head, though, "You must be Hayden, come in dear."

Hayden wheeled herself in past Mrs. Hudson and then waited for the woman to take the lead. She quickly led Hayden down the hall and down another ramp leading to yet another door. This one, Hayden was surprised to see, was automated.

"He's outdone himself," Hayden murmured as Mrs. Hudson hit a code on the keypad and then told it to Hayden.

"1776," Mrs. Hudson said and Hayden couldn't help but smirk, it was an obvious reference to Hayden's American origins. "It's not much, and I'm surprised you're willing to stay here, but it has been made more accessible for you."

"It's perfect," Hayden said, looking around the small flat.

The living room led straight into the kitchen/ dining room, eliminating the need for doors. The appliances were new and sleek. The floors were entirely a dark wood and the furniture was a mixture of white and teal that Hayden found quite pleasing. There were two doors off the living room. One led to a bathroom that had been widened so that she could move around easier in it. The shower contained a built-in shower chair and the toilet had bars that she could use next to it, attached to the walls.

Her bedroom is what really brought tears to her eyes. The twin sized bed was at the perfect height and the head was against the singular window that was covered by a blackout curtain that was easy enough to move. The thing that really got her was the wall of bookshelves that, on closer inspection, was filled with plays, classics, and other books that Hayden liked to read.

"I hope this will work for you, dear," Mrs. Hudson said when they were back in the living room.

"It's perfect, Mrs. Hudson," Hayden said with a small smile, "seriously."

"Oh no," Mrs. Hudson said with a glance at the clock, "I have to go, I'm so sorry, you'll be fine on your own, right?"

"I can manage, thanks," Hayden said with a small smile, "if not I'll just pester Mycroft until he personally comes to assist me."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Hudson said before letting herself out of the flat.

As soon as it was clear Hayden's smile dropped, like it always did when she wasn't in the company of others. She wheeled herself into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for something to eat.

On the bottom shelf, there was a container with a note on top. She picked up the note and read it.

 _Ms. Skinner,_

 _Hope you are settling well, if you need assistance do not hesitate to contact me. Here is dinner for tonight, the fridge will be replaced and restocked tomorrow. I hope you will join me for breakfast tomorrow so that you can get more acquainted with your new job._

 _-Mycroft Holmes_

Hayden tossed the meal in the microwave before tossing the note. She would meet with Mycroft tomorrow, but right now she wanted to eat and then sleep.

Which is exactly what she was trying to do until there was a knock on her door.

"Give me a minute," Hayden yelled from her position on the bed. She sat up and then maneuvered her legs so that she could easily swing herself into the chair. She adjusted her legs onto the footplate before wheeling herself to the door.

Hayden hit the button to open the door before rolling away, missing the shocked look on her guest's face. She turned when she didn't hear footsteps and smirked at the man in a jumper.

"You can come in," Hayden said sarcastically, "that tends to be what it means when a person opens a door."

"Oh," The man said before stepping into the room and looking around curiously, "I'm-"

"John Watson, I know," Hayden said with a smirk, "I know, I'm currently employed by Mycroft. And I've read your blog. And Sherlock's, it's all very fascinating."

"You've read my blog?" John asked, well, almost squeaked.

"Yes," Hayden said, smirk only widening, "It's impressive how much that man doesn't know about the world. Such as when it is or isn't polite to enter a person's flat."

John followed Hayden's gaze to see Sherlock easily perusing Hayden's movie shelf. He shot Hayden an apologetic look before going over to talk to the other man. John grabbed the movie Sherlock had in his hand and put it back on the shelf.

"Not good, Sherlock," John told him before walking back to Hayden, who was just smiling at the two of them.

"It's alright," Hayden assured John, "I'm sure he already knows everything he needs to know."

Sherlock, however, was watching Hayden with a frown. He glanced around the room as if he was unsure of himself before turning back to the woman who was wheeling a tray full of cups to the living room. John moved to help but she just waved him off, only for the cups to slide off her lap.

Hayden looked at the cups with a frown before shrugging and turning her chair to face the kitchen, wheeling herself back in. She started making the tea again, ignoring the mess she had previously made.

Sherlock watched as John moved towards the broom closet only to have a tea bag chucked at his head, hitting his cheek with a thud. The both of them turned to Hayden who was not paying them any attention.

"If you try to clean that up it's going to be a cup next," Hayden warned before giving the tea her full attention.


	8. It Would be More Fun at a Disco

The three had chatted, well John and Hayden had, for around an hour. The tea wasn't mentioned, though Hayden had cleaned it up, before Hayden had shown the two out of the room, saying that she needed an early night.

Which wasn't a lie, she wanted to shower, and tidy up a bit, and start a load of laundry and cook and run around. And all these things she couldn't currently do without assistance. Even earlier when she had tried to clean up the cups John had had to hold the dustpan for her.

So instead of doing anything she wanted to do Hayden went to her room and pulled out a journal. She had started writing in it two weeks prior, at the suggestion of her physical therapist when she had noticed how frustrated Hayden would get when she couldn't do something.

Her therapist had suggested she wrote out her feelings in a journal. And when the journal was complete she could either read through it to see her progress, or she could toss it. Even just writing everything made it a whole lot easier. She had gotten through half a page when suddenly her hand went clammy, the pen clattering to the ground.

Hayden attempted to wheel herself out of the room and into the bathroom, where she kept her medicine, but she couldn't get a grip on the handhold of her wheels. She grit her teeth before reaching for her phone, a gift from Mycroft, which she kept in a small bag hanging off the arm rest. With immense concentration, Hayden managed to unlock the phone and dial Mycroft's number. She put the phone on speaker before setting it in her lap.

"I can't make it to the bathroom." Hayden said immediately after hearing Mycroft answer, "and an attack is coming and I need- I need to -" Her breathing had sped up and she could feel her eyes start to water. She tried to hang up on Mycroft but her hands were shaking too much now for even that to happen.

Hayden was trying to control her breathing, using a technique she had learned from her physical therapist when she heard footsteps in her flat. She tried to turn and see the person that was going through her medicine cabinet, but the movement of her torso made her nauseous.

Hayden tried to lean forward to avoid getting vomit in her lap but she knew she wasn't going to make it. She closed her eyes in mortification, only opening them when she was ordered to by a gentle female voice.

She looked up to see Allison with a glass of water and two pills. Hayden gratefully took the pills when offered and gulped the water down. She immediately started to feel better, her breathing went back to normal and her hands stopped shaking so much. Five minutes later and it was as if the panic attack had never happened.

Allison helped Hayden clean up and shower without a complaint, or any talking really. Once she was ready for bed Hayden thanked Allison who left without any fuss. Hayden then slowly crawled from the chair to her bed. She adjusted her legs so that one was on top of the other so she could roll onto her side in her sleep and then grabbed the book, Orwell's 1984, off her end table and opened it to the dog-eared page.


	9. The Meaning of Existence

Two days later found Sherlock sitting on her couch as Hayden read, this time, it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. His excuse had been that Mrs. Hudson was cleaning and it was bothering him but Hayden knew he was studying her.

By the look of frustration on the detective's face, Hayden guessed he wasn't getting far. She set her book down and watched him as he openly studied her, not breaking the silence in the room for nearly ten minutes.

"If you can't figure something out you can just ask," Hayden said, breaking the silence and Sherlock's concentration.

"Why do you not exist?" Sherlock asked after a minute

"Oh, so you looked me up?" Hayden asked, wheeling into the kitchen to make some tea, a task she was determined to complete without assistance.

"Yes," Sherlock said, "I even had Mycroft look you up when I couldn't find anything. Are you running from something?"

"I owe a tax collection of ten billion dollars to the IRS which is why I moved to England and changed my name," Hayden said seriously before cracking a smile at Sherlock's raised eyebrow.

"I'm actually an ex-assassin trying to make a living off of selling Avon magazines and wheelchair decorations."

"Hayden," Sherlock said reprimandingly, "do not insult my intelligence."

"Was I being too creative to make it believable?" Hayden asked with a mock frown, she sighed at the glare that Sherlock sent her way. "Fine, I was actually in my last year of grad school studying to be a drama teacher when I was transported from my room for unknown reasons only to end up in an alternate universe in which Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are real people and not just characters from one of the most successful literary creations in the world."

"Hayden I said no more-" Sherlock stopped upon seeing her face, "you're not joking, or at least you don't think you are."

"I'm not crazy if you're wondering," Hayden said quietly, losing the burst of confidence that had caused her to say all of that to Sherlock. A man she had met only two days ago. "Mycroft already checked me out for that when I told him."

"Mycroft believed you?" Sherlock asked, looking shocked

"No, which is why he had me checked. I convinced the shrink that I was saying to piss Mycroft off and see how far I could go. Testing the waters and all," Hayden explained as she slowly wheeled over to the living room with a tray of tea balanced on her lap. "The tea is actually part of the physical therapy, you don't have to drink it."

She placed the tea on the table and then went back to the kitchen to start preparing her dinner. She was immensely grateful to Mycroft for making everything in the kitchen accessible to her. Hayden was determined to not be a burden on anyone.

Twenty minutes later found Hayden with an ice pack on her hand and Sherlock setting her pot of spaghetti on the dining room table. Hayden was trying her best not to cry from the frustration she felt with herself.

She was surprised when Sherlock didn't use it to tease her.


	10. Advice From the British Government

"What do you want, Sherlock?" Hayden asked as she wheeled into the living to find Sherlock on her couch with a book propped open on his lap. It appeared to be The Great Gatsby. Hayden raised an eyebrow at the man. "Didn't know you were into classics."

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Sherlock informed her as he stood and grabbed a tray of food, "Mrs. Hudson demanded that I bring you tea and food for reasons unknown."

Hayden nodded accepting the tray before watching Sherlock walk out of her flat. She found herself oddly touched by how he had waited for her to wake up, rather than just leaving the tray at her door. Never mind the fact that he had broken into her flat.

Hayden gratefully ate the food and drank the tea before going back to her room to finish getting ready for the day. Today Hayden was planning to visit Mycroft after her therapy session. She found herself missing the man after their near constant contact of the last few weeks.

Her therapy session went as normal, she moved her legs around and did the exercises she was told to do. She talked with a shrink for five minutes and then got herself back into the car Mycroft had provided for her. She directed the driver to Mycroft's office, having gotten confirmation that the man was there and not in some world saving meeting.

The office was richly decorated with antique furniture. The colors were dark and earthy and Hayden thought that it fit the man that most often used them.

"Hayden," Mycroft greeted when Hayden was in the office. He didn't smile but Hayden could see his shoulders relax a tad.

"Mycroft," Hayden returned the greeting while she accepted tea from the man she was beginning to consider her friend.

"What brings you in?" Mycroft asked as he took a seat in one of his more comfortable office chairs set to the side of his room. He started pouring tea from the set that was left next to the set.

Hayden wasn't sure if she had an actual reason for visiting Mycroft. There was the beginning of an idea but until it was fully formed she would not be able to explain it to Mycroft. Instead, she gave the older man a small smile.

"Am I not allowed to visit my favorite British Government?" Hayden teased, accepting the tea that Mycroft offered her. She rolled her eyes at his raised eyebrows, "Fine, I was thinking of something and I was hoping that talking to you would help me figure out if it's actually a good idea or if I'm just bored enough that I'll do anything to get out of Baker Street."

"You're coming to me for advice?" Mycroft asked with mild surprise.

"You are the only reason I am able to get on with life," Hayden reminded the man, "you should be expecting me to come for advice a lot more often than this."

Mycroft simply nodded, waiting patiently for Hayden to continue. When he noticed that she wasn't going to he frowned. "Hayden?"

"Sorry," Hayden said as she started to play with the wheels on her chair, moving them forward and back, "I just... Ugh,"

"Just say what you want and I'll tell you if it's a good idea or not."


	11. Prescription

"They're prescription," Hayden assured the DI as she popped two pills into her mouth before washing them down with water, "what brings you here?"

Lestrade shrugged, "just thought I'd check up on my favorite Jane Doe."

Hayden shot Lestrade a wry smile, while she appreciated his attempts at humor she was not in a humorous mood. She had just broken her favorite mug and was getting frustrated with herself over the fact that she even had a favorite mug, seeing as how Mycroft had already had to replace the ten he had originally bought her.

"Thanks, Lestrade," Hayden sighed, "but I'm managing."

"That's not what Sherlock said," Lestrade paused then, thinking better of it, but it was too late.

Hayden rolled over to Lestrade, trapping him on the couch with her chair, and glared at him. Lestrade had the sense to look contrite and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Hayden backed up an inch.

"I may be confined to a chair for the foreseeable future," Hayden said, "but that does not mean I am helpless."

Lestrade glanced at her hands which were covered in healing scars, some from broken glass, others from burns. He remembered John mentioning a spilled pot the other day and was finding himself growing more concerned for the young woman in front of him.

"Lestrade," Hayden said with a shake of her head, "I'm fine, stop worrying so much. If I don't start taking care of myself now I'll never be able to do it."

"Okay, but remember you're still human, Hayden," Lestrade said as he stood up, "and everyone needs help sometimes, there is no shame is asking for it."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks, Lestrade," Hayden said before seeing the detective out.

She went back to her room to collect a bag and throw it over the handles on the back of her chair before wheeling herself out of 221B and onto the street. She was met by Allison, now going by Helena, who was to take her to her Thursday physical therapy session.

"Detour today, or no?" Helena asked as Hayden buckled herself in. After two months of living at Baker Street Hayden was finally able to get herself situated in the van by herself, even if it took her ten minutes to do so.

The detour Helena had mentioned was to see Mycroft, something that was becoming rarer the more Hayden was able to do on her own.

"Not today," Hayden said with a small smile, "though afterwards I'd like to visit Scotland Yard."

"Of course," Helena said, shooting a text that was no doubt to Mycroft, conveying this information.


	12. The Land of Idiots

Scotland Yard was quiet, no one speaking above a whisper, when Hayden rolled in. Helena had dropped her off about five minutes prior and Hayden had used that time to send Lestrade a text, informing him she was coming.

"What does a teacher want with Scotland Yard?" A voice behind Hayden said, she didn't need to turn to know it was Sherlock.

"Option a- I'm here to request their services, option b- I'm here to offer my services," Hayden said as she wheeled into Lestrade's office, having seen the man beckon to her.

"Which is why I'm asking," Sherlock said as he walked in behind her, "what have you got to offer?"

Lestrade glanced between Hayden and Sherlock before shrugging helplessly. He was vaguely interested in seeing how Sherlock reacted to Hayden's proposition.

"Lestrade," Hayden greeted, "how's the wife?"

"She's alright."

"She's sleeping with a co-" Sherlock turned to Hayden with a glare, "why did you hit me?"

"Hand slipped, now shut up. I'm offering my services to Lestrade."

"And what services would that be?" Lestrade asked curiously.

He'd gotten to know Hayden over the past few weeks and he was curious to see what it was she would offer. He knew that whatever she offered would be something she was capable of. Hayden was sure of her abilities and simply avoided the things she couldn't do.

"I have a degree in psychology, emphasis on social and criminal psychology," Hayden watched as Lestrade's face morphed into a look of confusion and Sherlock a look of understanding. "Basically, Lestrade, I studied why criminals do what they do, and also how, though I wasn't able to major in that because of my drama degree."

"So what you're saying is-"

"What she's saying, detective inspector, is that she wants to help solve crimes from the sidelines." Sherlock interrupted him, "which might actually be helpful considering the sidelines just means she won't take part in the actually catching of the criminals and you guys could use the help as you are all idiots."

With that Sherlock swept from the room, his coat billowing out from behind him. Lestrade and Hayden both shared a look before Hayden burst out laughing.

"That's pretty much what I was suggesting except I was going to leave out the idiot part, I didn't want to offend you."


	13. No One Likes Anderson

"She doesn't seem particularly bothered," Hayden heard Anderson mutter from somewhere behind her, "do you think she could be another one like _him_."

The disgust in his voice told her that he was referencing Sherlock. She was overcome with the urge to smack his smirk into next week.

Soon after Lestrade had accepted Hayden's proposal a murder had been called in and Hayden had been allowed to come to the scene. Sherlock was there as well, but Hayden was sure that he had asked to come along.

From what she could see of the scene it did not require Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.

The flat was small and thankfully on the first floor so Hayden hadn't needed much assistance getting in. The living room was covered in images of a young married couple, obviously newlyweds. The couches and chairs were mismatched and there were no rugs covering the cold hardwood floor. Something that spoke to the fact that the two occupants were living off a single income. She also got that from the fact that there was a to-do list and the top was "get job" written in a sloppy masculine scrawl.

On the couch, there was a throw that looked home made and uncomfortable. Hayden assumed it was a gift before moving on into the kitchen, where the body had been found.

It was a small kitchen, the appliances were old and the counters were covered in grime. The body on the floor was covered in ants and Hayden had to resist the urge to throw up. She schooled her face into a mask before rolling forward to inspect the injury that had caused the death. A knife could be soon protruding from the woman's back. Hayden shook her head, obviously a crime of passion. The woman wasn't wearing her ring but the man's ring was sitting on the counter.

"Check his grandma's house," Hayden said, "she was cheating on him with her boss and he got jealous."

"She's definitely another Sherlock," Sally grumbled and Hayden turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"I solve one crime and you put me up there with Sherlock? Your opinion of him must be very low, Sally dear."

"Wait, we're supposed to just take her word for it?" Anderson asked, gesturing to Hayden with a look of disdain, "she couldn't even get-"

"In the building without help?" Hayden finished coldly, "okay fine, you want me to walk you through it since your pea sized brain is too small to keep up?

"Newly married couple recently moved in living off her income. How do I know this? The only pictures up are of their wedding, and some older ones presumably from when they first started dating. On a to-do list are the words "get job" written with a man hands writing. How did I know she was sleeping with her boss, you ask? Well her phone is open and the messages are from James 'boss', obviously the contact hasn't changed since she got her job. The message reads, 'last night was good, let's meet again soon, winky face' and obviously her husband saw the message and they got into a fight. She took off the ring, he stabbed her, took off his own ring and went to his grandma's. Obviously, it was his grandma's, you don't keep an uncomfortable knitted throw on your couch unless it was a gift from your grandma."

She had said that all very slowly and condescendingly, maintaining an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with Andersen the entire time.

"At least getting up a few stairs is the only thing I need help with, Anderson."


	14. Babysitter John

"Thanks but I can manage," Hayden said to Mycroft as the man glared at her, "I've been managing for weeks."

"You're covered in burns."

"I don't need a babysitter," Hayden argued, her voice louder than she had intended it to be, "I'm doing just fine, thanks for the offer, though."

"It wasn't an offer," Mycroft said, almost hesitantly, "I've already hired someone."

"Who?" Hayden ground out, "who's the lucky person that gets to spend time with me?"

"John Watson," Mycroft said, "I figured you'd be more comfortable with him than with one of my doctors and he's quite capable."

"Does John know this yet?" Hayden sighed.

"Not yet, I was hoping for your approval first," Mycroft said, and Hayden had to admit that she felt touched by the amount of effort he was putting towards her wellbeing.

"Why exactly are you doing all of this for me, Mycroft?" Hayden asked after a moment of silence, "you could have just left me in the hospital to fend for myself."

"You're an interesting person, Hayden. And I think you'll be a great asset to our country," Mycroft said.

"Oh don't get all patriotic on me, Mycroft, it'll bring a tear to my eye," Hayden joked, "we both know it's because of my charming personality."

She shot Mycroft a wink, and he just shook his head at her. He had no idea why he had such an interest in Hayden. All he knew was that he was glad Lestrade had contacted him when he'd discovered something was up with the girl.

He was aware that someone like Hayden could either become a great friend, or a great enemy. She had a strong personality and was obviously a lot smarter than she let people believe. She was cunning and observant with her friends; he didn't want to experience what she was like with her enemies.


	15. Doctor John Watson

"You don't have to stand outside the door, John, I know why you're here," Hayden said as she sat the cup she was holding down on the table. "Can we just make this quick for both our benefits?"

"I'm not exactly sure what it was Mycroft wanted me to do," John said honestly as he stopped a few feet in front of Hayden.

"He wants you to check daily to make sure I'm eating properly, my burns and cuts and whatever injuries I manage to get are healing, and I'm not forgetting to take my medicine." Hayden listed out

"Oh, yeah that's pretty simple. I'll just do that then," John said before getting down to business.

When it came time to check the burns Hayden was impatient. John had cooked her a meal and watched as she took her lunch time dose. She was about ready to chew the doctor's head off when she heard a slight gasp from John.

She looked down to see what he had noticed and let out a small sigh, taking her arm gently from his and covering it self-consciously. She usually wore long sleeved to prevent others from seeing her arms.

"They're old, John. From my teenage years. There's no need to worry." Hayden assured the man, "I've been clean for six years."

"Oh, well, good. That's good." John said with a tiny smile, "everything seems to be healing well and all that. How's physical therapy going?"

"They've upped it to thrice a week because once wasn't enough. Now I have upper body on Mondays, swimming on Tuesdays, and legs on Thursdays." Hayden told the man, "though swimming is more like floating currently."

"It'll get better eventually," John assured her, "I've seen people make full recoveries from worse."

"Thanks, John," Hayden grinned, "now, I need to look at these files for a cold case Sherlock gave me. He wants me to practice or some crap like that."

"I'll leave you in peace then," John said, knowing his welcome had come to an end.


	16. The Adventure Begins

"Keep it down," Hayden yelled up the stairs, not at all pleased about getting woken up by the sounds of Sherlock fighting, "some people here need to sleep."

"Bored," she heard Sherlock yell even as the sounds of fighting continued.

"Just hurry it up already," Hayden yelled back, fighting to keep her amusement out of her voice.

"Done," Sherlock shouted back, and Hayden grinned as he yelled: "bored!"

"Don't forget to hide the sword," Hayden shouted just as John entered the building in a huff. She gave him a smile and went back to her flat to get changed, knowing that Sherlock would be going out soon and wanting to be apart of the adventure.

Helping Sherlock and Scotland Yard on cases had become Hayden's reprieve. It gave her something to focus on that wasn't her inability to do things for herself. She even found that she enjoyed the banter between herself and Sherlock. She was never afraid of arguing with the detective, and as such, they had a lot of petty arguments, often about Hayden's observations (Sherlock was hesitant to call them deductions, as she often missed things).

Hayden left her flat to wait on the ground floor for Sherlock and John. She had called earlier for a wheelchair accessible taxi; she'd been left to wait before because Sherlock was in too much of a rush to wait for a cab she could use, while London had been accessible when she had been there that was both in the future and in a parallel universe.

When Sherlock and John rushed down the stairs neither one was surprised to see her. John had joked about her having a sixth sense for adventure during on of his daily check ups.

"Going to the bank I see?" Hayden asked with a smirk, not missing the surprised look that had crossed the detective's face.

"Wh- how did you know?" John asked as Hayden waited for the boys to enter the taxi. It was easier for everyone if she got in last.

"Superhuman hearing," Hayden said in a whisper, like it was the biggest secret in the world, "when I was younger I was bitten by a bat and-"

Sherlock was glaring at her, and Hayden couldn't resist the urge to banter with him.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" Hayden said with a smirk, "you know you love me, Sherl. No need to glare to hide your feelings."

"It's Sherlock," the detective growled.

"Sherl," Hayden teased, she turned to John, "actually I'm from an alternate universe where all of this is a tv show with you and Sherly as the main characters."

"Not this again," Sherlock huffed, "do you tell this story to everyone?"

"No, only those who matter. Mainly you, John, Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade, Anderson-"

"Anderson?" Sherlock asked, latching onto the name.

"No, I was just checking to see if you were actually listening," Hayden grinned as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the bank. Hayden quickly undid the attachments to her chair and rolled out of the cab, she went ahead of Sherlock and John, knowing the two would catch up.


	17. Friends

"Sebastian," Sherlock greeted, clapping hands with the man, albeit reluctantly.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sebastian greeted with a fake smile before glancing at John and Hayden "how long- eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

"John Watson and Hayden Skinner, friends of mine." Sherlock introduced.

"Friends?" Sebastian questioned disdainfully.

"Collea-" John started before letting out a breath of air as Hayden hit him in the gut.

"Friends," Hayden assured with a glare at John, "and I'd like water, please if you don't mind."

"Alright, grab a pew," Sebastian said, "anything for you two?"

Sherlock, John, and Hayden moved to the desk, the boys grabbing seats and Hayden situating herself next to Sherlock. Sebastian sat in his chair across from them.

"You've been doing rather well," Sherlock said, starting an odd conversation, "You've been abroad a lot."

"Well, so?" Sebastian asked

"Flying all the way around the world twice in a month." Sherlock continued, and Hayden smirked.

"Right, You're doing that thing." Sebastian said with a scoff before addressing Hayden and John, "We were at uni together, and this guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick," Sherlock mumbled.

"Was it juggling?" Hayden asked, receiving looks from the three men, "sorry, you said it was a trick. The only thing that came to mind was juggling."

"No no, he could look at you and tell you your whole life story," Sebastian told her, looking down his nose at the woman

"Yes, I've seen him do it," John admitted quietly.

"Put the wind-up everybody; we hated him," Sebastian said as if this was the best story he'd told anyone, "We'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

"Oh, that," Hayden said in a bored tone, "I don't see how that would have mattered to you."

Hayden saw as Sherlock gave a twitch of a smile and couldn't help but feel a glow of pride. She loved being able to make Sherlock smile.

"I simply observed," Sherlock said, bringing the attention away from Hayden.

"Go on, enlighten me," Sebastian challenged, "Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world, you're quite right. How could you tell? Are you going to tell me there's a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?"

"No, I-" Sherlock tried

"Is it the mud on my shoes?" Sebastian continued

"I was just chatting with your secretary outside," Sherlock lied calmly, "She told me."

Everything was quiet until Sebastian burst out laughing, "I'm glad you could make it. We've had a break in."

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, I just wanted to give a mid-story shout out to everyone that has followed, favorited, or reviewed this story. You all inspire me and I appreciate everything you do.


	18. The Message

"Sir William's office - the bank's former chairman," Sebastian explained when the four of them were at the main desk, "The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asked

"Nothing," Sebastian said, "just left a little message."

Sebastian played the video for the trio and Hayden had to fight the urge not to grind her teeth at her inability to see it. The damn desk was too high, and she couldn't get any closer because the three men were crowded in front of her. With a sigh, she gave up and pulled away from the table. It's not like she didn't know what was going on anyways.

"So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around and left within a minute," Sebastian concluded with a smirk

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting," Sebastian said, opening up a new screen, "Every door that opens in this bank, it gets locked right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night?" John asked, turning to see that Hayden was practically sulking as she sat away from the group, inspecting her nails.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it, and we'll pay you - five figures. This is an advance." Sebastian held the cheque out to Sherlock who ignored it, "Tell me how he got in. There's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian," Sherlock said, walking away. Hayden quickly pushed at her wheels to catch up with the detective.

"He's, er-" John cleared his throat, "he's kidding you, obviously. Shall I look after that for him?" He took the cheque from Sebastian and glanced at it, his eyes going wide, "Thanks."

Hayden watched with unabashed amusement as Sherlock practically danced around the office space. Half of the staff was looking at him with open mouths, and the other half was trying not to get sidetracked from their work.

"You should be a ballerina," Hayden suggested when Sherlock had reappeared at her side, earning herself a confused look. "You were practically dancing around that room."

"Ah," Sherlock said as the two met up with John outside the elevators.


	19. Breitlings and Pillars

"Two trips around the world this month," John said when the three of them met up, "You didn't ask his secretary, you said that just to irritate him. How did you know?"

"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock asked leading them to the elevator much to Hayden's surprise

"His watch?" John asked, glancing at the back of Hayden's head, hoping that she would be the one to give the explanation, as she was apt to do so without insulting his intelligence.

"The time was right, but the date was wrong," Sherlock explained, hitting the down button, waiting for the elevator- lift- to be called," said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice and he didn't alter it."

"Within a month?" John asked watching the doors to the elevator open and Hayden disappear inside. He entered after Sherlock and looked over at Hayden to see that she was smirking, "How did you get that?"

"New Breitling," Sherlock said, hitting the button for the ground floor. "Only came out this February."

"OK," John agreed slowly with a shake of his head, "So do you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks," Sherlock said with a glance to John, "That graffiti was a message. Someone at the bank, working on the trading find the intended recipient and-"

"They'll lead us to the person who sent it?" John finished, somewhat catching up with the thought process of the detective

"Obvious," Sherlock agreed with a pleased smile.

"Well, there's 300 people up there, who was it meant for?" John asked, somewhat wondering why Hayden was being uncharacteristically silent.

"Pillars," Hayden said just before Sherlock could, surprising the two men with her sudden input.

"What?" The two echoed, sharing a glance before looking back to Hayden.

"The location of the pillars and the screens," Hayden grinned over her shoulder, narrowly avoiding running into a pole. She blushed but otherwise ignore it, simply changing her direction. "Very few places you could see that graffiti from."

"That narrows the field considerably," Sherlock continued, raising an eyebrow at Hayden, "And, of course, the message was left at 11. 34 last night. That tells us a lot."

"Does it?" John asked curiously

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night," Sherlock said, following Hayden out the sliding doors that stood to the left of the revolving ones, "That message was intended for somebody who came in at midnight. Not many Van Coons in the phone book." He grinned as he showed the name plate to John before turning to the road, "Taxi!"


	20. Sherlock is Actually an Actor

Her original intent had been to go back to Baker Street and leave the case to the boys. She knew they would be able to solve it and she was trying not to get overly involved. There were several instances in this case that would be too much to handle in her current state. But, as usual, the consulting detective didn't care.

"I'm in a wheelchair, in case you hadn't noticed, Holmes," Hayden pointed out to Sherlock who was refusing to let her stay in the cab. At the very least he hadn't gone so far as to push her out himself. It seemed that even the high-functioning sociopath knew that it would be a terrible idea to do so.

"Your point?" Sherlock replied with a smirk.

"What if something happens and we need to run?" Hayden asked, glaring at the detective who just raised his eyebrow in question. Hayden rolled her eyes before yelling: "I can't run!"

"Are you expecting anything to happen?" Sherlock asked, his smirk only growing.

"Well, no bu-" Hayden started to move her hands to show the true level of her exasperations. Hayden stopped when Sherlock reached forward and undid the buckle she had previously been hiding from him with her hands. "Fuck you, Holmes."

Sherlock simply smiled as Hayden followed the detective from the cab and up to the apartment building. She glared at John who was smirking at her before flipping the bird at the man. Hayden didn't care that it was apparently not the same insult in England as it was in America, it was still satisfying.

Hayden ignored John's offended look and watched as Sherlock rang the buzzer for Van Coon's apartment. She knew that there would be no answer but decided not to mention anything since the other two would find that out soon.

"So what do we do now?" John asked when it became obvious that there would be no answer, "Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"Just moved in," Sherlock muttered pointing to the recently covered plaque, much to the confusion of John.

"What?" The man question, glancing at the plaque that Sherlock pointed to.

"Floor above, new label," Sherlock told the man with a glance at Hayden who was smirking at him. He turned back to the label, ignoring the girl.

"Could have just replaced it," John reminded that with his own glance at Hayden.

"No-one ever does that," Hayden said with a roll of her eyes as Sherlock pressed the buzzer again, "why would people do that?"

"Hello?" A woman answered after only a few moments.

"Hi, um, I live in the flat just below you," Sherlock said, his voice pitched higher and his entire countenance changed, "I don't think we've met."

"No, well, er, I've just moved in," the woman mention and Sherlock sent John a triumphant look.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat," Sherlock said with a frown, Hayden had to admit that the dude had superb acting skills.

"Do you want me to buzz you in?" The woman offered.

"Yeah," Sherlock agreed with a smirk, "And can we use your balcony?"


	21. Van Coon

Hayden rolled her eyes yet again at John's insistence to ring the doorbell countless times. He'd been solving crimes with the man for a few months and should have learned that Sherlock was going to be Sherlock no matter what.

"You know, if you keep getting angry at the man in public places someone's gonna confuse you for him," Hayden warned the doctor with a private smirk. She knew that John wasn't going to take her seriously so she could get away with comments like that.

"Yeah, whatever," John said glaring at the door and ringing the bell again.

Hayden chuckled when the door opened and John jumped, having not expecting it. She smiled at the grumpy look John sent her and wheeled herself into the room, ready to take a look.

"Sherlock, what are the chances of the bullet actually going out the window?" Hayden asked right when she entered, not even giving herself the chance to see the body.

"How did you-" Sherlock started only for Hayden to interrupt him

"I mean, I know that it did but what are the actual odds of that happening?" She continued on, taking a closer look at the objects she remembered coming into play later. "Though it makes sense considering the attacker came in through the window."

Hayden looked up to see both Sherlock and John staring at her. John looked confused where Sherlock looked intrigued. She sent John a smile before rolling into the room with the body.

Van Coon could have been considered handsome while he was alive but bullet wounds made everyone unattractive. There was a pool of dried blood on the right side of his head, some of it had dried to his hair. The gun was in his left hand resting loosely on the bed. Hayden saw all this before rolling over to the window, addressing Sherlock as she went.

"I'm assuming you called Lestrade," she said as she pulled a glove out of her pocket and pulled it over her hand. She used that hand to check for dust on the window sill noting that there was dust on the ends but not in the middle.

"He should be here soon," Sherlock assured as he continued his own investigation, sparing some time to observe Hayden as she too looked around the room.


	22. Dimmock

Detective Inspector Dimmock was shorter than Hayden had expected. She watched as he and his team swept into the room from her vantage point in the corner. He had mousey brown hair and she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he went bald in the next three years.

"See if we can get prints off this glass," Dimmock ordered one of his men, gaining Sherlock's attention.

"Sergeant, we haven't met," Sherlock greeted, holding out his hand to the man.

"Yeah, I know who you are and I would prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence," The man said haughtily, Hayden rolled her eyes when he ignored Sherlock's hand.

"I phoned Lestrade," Sherlock said, watching Dimmock as he walked past him, "Is he on his way?"

"He's busy. I'm in charge," Dimmock said, in that same snooty tone, "And it's not Sergeant, it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." He turned to look at the body, intent on ignoring Sherlock's presence, "We're obviously looking at a suicide."

"It does seem the only explanation of all the facts," John agreed, gesturing to the body.

"Wrong," Hayden and Sherlock said before Sherlock continued, "it's one possible explanation of some of the facts,"

"Who are you?" the detective inspector asked, noticing Hayden for the first time. She glared at the disbelieving look he was giving her.

"Hayden Skinner, detective, I'm Scotland Yard's newest criminal profiler," Hayden quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression, "it means I'm the resident expert on the criminal and I suggest you listen to Sherlock because he knows what he's talking about."

"Anyways," Sherlock continued, surprised that Hayden had given him the power back so quickly, "you've got a solution that you like, but you are choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" Dimmock asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Wound's on the right side of his head," Sherlock told him pointing to the wound on the man.

"And?" Dimmock prompted when Sherlock didn't continue.

"Van Coon was left-handed," Sherlock continued, Hayden nodded her agreement and she rolled "requires quite a bit of contortion."

"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked

"I'm amazed you didn't notice," Sherlock said sarcastically, he definitely was not amazed, "All you have to do is look around this flat. Coffee table on the left-hand side, the coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left of the phone. Picked up with his right, took messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?"

"No, I think you've covered it." John interceded, wanting to prevent a fight breaking out.

"I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list," Sherlock powered through, "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left."

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right of his head," Hayden added with a grin.

"Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him - only explanation of all of the facts," Sherlock finished with a nod to Hayden.

"But the gun?" Dimmock asked,

"He was waiting for the killer," Hayden told the arrogant man, "He'd been threatened."

"What?" Dimmock asked

"Today at the bank, sort of a warning," Sherlock said, holding the picture of the painting he'd taken on his phone, "He fired a shot when his attacker came in."

"And the bullet?" Dimmock wondered with a raised eyebrow

"Went through the open window," Sherlock told him simply

"Oh, come on," Dimmock groaned "What are the chances of that?!"

"That's what I was wondering," Hayden exclaimed loudly, startling John and Dimmock as well as several of the other team members, "sorry."

"Wait until you get the ballistics report," Sherlock continued with an eye roll, "The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee it."

"If his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

"Good, you're finally asking the right questions," Sherlock quipped before walking out of the room without answering.

"What he meant to say is that we'll get back to you on that," Hayden said with a nod before following Sherlock out of the room.


	23. Heart to Heart

"You need to stop caring so much what people think," Hayden said as John, yet again, checked her burns, which she had insisted, yet again, that he didn't need to.

"What do you mean?" John asked, looking up from where he had been studying her arm.

"Yesterday at the bank," Hayden said, "you were about to say colleague because you didn't want someone to think you were close to Sherlock."

"And?"

"And it doesn't matter what other people think of you, especially people as insignificant as Sebastian," Hayden said, "did you not notice the way he was insulting Sherlock the entire time we were there?"

"I noticed, especially when you started calling him out on it," John said with a smirk, "you're quite good at passive aggressive insults."

"Not that he understood them," Hayden said with a quick smile before pulling her sleeve down. "I told Greg about the way Dimmock treats Sherlock."

"And?" John asked

"And he told me to get a video of it," Hayden said with a grin.

"Why are you so interested in Sherlock?" John asked suddenly, sitting down on the couch, "I mean he's kind of an ass to you."

"And I'm an ass back," Hayden reminded, "and anyways, he's not all bad, he actually cares a lot more than he shows, although still less than your average goldfish, and he's interesting. You know, he's started doing experiments in here so that I can watch him," John nodded, "it's things like that, the little things, that keep me interested."

"Is that so?" Sherlock's voice sounded from the open doorway. John looked at him in shock but Hayden merely shrugged.

"Pretty much," she told him as she rolled to the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. "You sticking around or are you going out for the case?"

"Going out," Sherlock said before holding a coat out to John, "John you coming?"

"Can you let me know the details when you get back?" Hayden asked as the men exited, not receiving an answer from Sherlock.

"I'll let you know," John said before gently shutting the door behind them.


	24. Billy

"Why are these here?" Hayden asked the unmoving man sitting on her couch. She was looking at a group of pictures taped to her mantle. She knew they were from the case but decided that she didn't need to look at them quite yet.

"You wanted to know about the case," Sherlock reminded the girl, not even glancing at her.

"I've been trying to get you to work on your cases in here since I moved here, Sherlock," Hayden reminded

"It will take me less than one minute to move all this back to my flat," Sherlock nearly growled

"Sorry sorry, I'll get out of your hair now," Hayden said before going to the kitchen to make tea for the two of them.

She left a cup beside Sherlock before going to get ready for the day. A task she hated doing, even after all the progress she had made. She went from taking an hour just to shower to talking thirty minutes to get entirely ready for the day.

"What's your actual name," Sherlock asked as soon as Hayden was back in the living room.

"Hayden," she responded immediately, "is now really the time for this, Sherlock?"

"I'm getting nowhere," Sherlock complained, "I need a distraction."

"So you're using me for distraction?" Hayden asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My skull is upstairs," Sherlock said with a shrug, not even sparing Hayden a glance.

"I'm replacing Billy, sweet," Hayden said sarcastically.

"How'd you know the skulls name is Billy?" Sherlock asked, staring at Hayden inquisitively, "not even John knows that."

"Remember when I told you I was from a different universe where this was a tv show?" Hayden asked; Sherlock nodded, "yeah, I wasn't lying. But enough of that, tell me about the case so far, I may have some ideas."

"What do you mean enough of that? It's intriguing that someone as intelligent and grounded as you could possibly believe in alternative universes," Sherlock said getting into Hayden's face, "you don't act delusional at all."

"Redbeard," Hayden said, almost as a challenge, "you can ask Mycroft if he told me about your old dog, Sherlock. But you and I both know he wouldn't have, so how else could I know?"

"My parents-" Sherlock started

"Probably don't even know I exist considering both you and Mycroft have a tendency to avoid lengthy conversations with them," Hayden said, suppressing a smile at Sherlock's frustration, "why don't we save this for later so you have something to fight off the boredom with between cases."

Sherlock nodded at the suggestion, seeming almost grateful. The two sat in companionable silence as they both look at the clippings and images on the mantle.

"If you know everything why aren't you solving all the cases?" Sherlock asked after twenty minutes.

"I don't know everything, Sherlock. Just more than I should. And also, what is the fun in that. You know your brain would rot without the cases."

"I see."


	25. ASBO

"Where are we headed?" John asked as the three made their way through Trafalgar Square towards the National Gallery.

"I need to ask some advice," Sherlock said quickly, hoping John wouldn't comment

"What?!" John said dumbfounded that Sherlock would need advice. "Sorry?"

"You heard me perfectly," Sherlock told him, "I'm not saying it again."

"You need advice?" John repeated, looking at Hayden who was watching the exchange in amusement.

"On painting," Sherlock said as he led his friends behind the gallery and into an alley, "Yes, I need to talk to an expert."

In the alley, a young man was focused on the image he was spray painting onto the wall. Hayden was impressed by the amount of skill that the man showed. She gave an appreciative nod as John gawked at Sherlock in surprise.

"Part of a new exhibition," the man told them, not looking away from his work.

"Interesting," Sherlock, not sounding interested at all.

"I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy," the artist said, sending Hayden a wink who simply smiled back.

"Catchy," John said as he examined the pig in a coppers suit that the man had created.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes around that corner," The young man said as he shook his can a little, "Can we do this while I'm working?"

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked as he held out his phone to show the artist a picture of the painting from the bank.

"I recognize the paint," the man said, finally looking away from his work, "It's like Michigan hard-core propellant. I'd say zinc."

"Do you recognize the symbols, Raz?" Hayden asked, speaking up for the first time.

"I'm not even sure it's a proper language," Raz admitted after a moment, looking at Hayden in shock but finding that he wasn't really surprised a friend of Sherlock's would know his name.

"Two men have been murdered, Raz," Sherlock told the man, his voice only barely betraying his frustrations. "Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them."

"And this is all you've got to go on?" Raz commented in amusement, "It's hardly much, is it?"

"Are you going to help us or not?" Sherlock demanded harshly

"I'll ask around," Raz said, "Somebody must know something about it."

Just then two officers came around the corner and shouted at them. No one had noticed Hayden already moving down the alley. She was almost around the corner when the community support officers had arrived. She giggled as she pictured the look of shock on John's face when he realized that even she had abandoned him.

She only felt slightly guilty for doing so, but she couldn't risk an ASBO. It would just create more work for Mycroft and make her even more of a burden.


	26. scapegoats

"I've told you, Sherlock, I've got work," Hayden grumbled as she pulled her coat over her arms, "You know that thing I do when I'm not helping you, going to PT, or making tea?"

"Yes, I need you to go to Scotland Yard," Sherlock muttered giving the woman a confused look, "I thought I already mentioned this?"

"Ask John when he gets back, then." Hayden demanded, pushing her way past Sherlock, "I've got to go, Anderson needs my help figuring out a motive and any chance I have to fuck with the man is not one I'm gonna pass up."

"Fine," Sherlock grumbled before throwing himself down on the chair that Hayden had ordered specifically for him so that he didn't take up her entire couch.

Hayden shook her head and grabbed her bag from beside the door, throwing it over the back of her chair. "Yeah yeah, whine all you want. I'll be back by five and you can coerce me to help you then."

"Is it coercing if you offer your services?" Sherlock called after her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes," Hayden called back with a laugh. She let the door fall shut behind her and rolled out to the entry way where John was stomping down the stairs.

"If you want to yell at him he's on his chair in my place," Hayden offered with an innocent smile, "you know the code."

"Thank you, Hayden," John huffed before storming past the woman who simply smiled and left the building, happy to let Sherlock be the scapegoat.


	27. Plans

**Do not go back to your flat.- S.H. 3:45 pm**

 _Did you catch it on fire again- H.S. 3:50 pm_

 **No, you are needed at the National Antiques Museum.- S.H. 3:50 pm**

 _I am? When?- H.S. 4:05 pm_

 _If I murder Anderson will you help me hide the evidence? He just tried to help me into the elevator.- H.S. 4:05 pm_

 **Even better, we can pin it on Sally.- S.H. 4:06 pm**

 **Whenever you're done with that thing you call a job.- S.H. 4:07 pm**

 _I really hope they never see this, it is very incriminating. See you after work.- H.S. 4:13 pm_

* * *

"Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock murmured as he led a grumpy Hayden into the National Antiques Museum.

"A tea enthusiast," Hayden commented, not even looking at Sherlock, "how's your neck?"

"Sore," Sherlock said, glancing at Hayden impressed, "how did you notice but not John, a man who is a trained medical doctor?"

"I don't have this idea that you're invincible and also, I'm not constantly annoyed with you," Hayden said with a small smile as she let herself glide along next to Sherlock, "which means I don't subconsciously ignore things, for instance, the bruises on the back of your neck."

Sherlock just ignored her continuing on to talk to a man about Soo Lin. Hayden took it as an opportunity to explore the museum. She had been looking at a statue of some British soldier she didn't care to know about when Sherlock found her.

"Why do you insist at looking around if you don't care about this stuff?" Sherlock asked as Hayden dragged him into another section of the museum.

"Why do you insist on asking questions that you know the answer to?" Hayden challenged as she looks at a rusting suit of armor that was apparently used in the medieval ages.

"Ah yes, you're trying to appear more cultured to Mycroft," Sherlock said quietly. "Why? Wait, no, I know why. That's stupid, you know he doesn't care."

"I know," Hayden said, "and you're right, it's stupid. But I'm going to keep doing it, so what does that make me?"

"By technical definition insane," Sherlock told her as they made their way out of the museum.

"Pretty much," Hayden agreed with a shrug.

"But more likely than that you're desperate." Sherlock continued, "desperate for Mycroft to believe you to be interesting. So that he doesn't just throw you on the streets. So you do things that don't interest you so that you can throw him off and remain interesting."

"Pretty much," Hayden said as Sherlock helped her into the taxi, a recent development that Hayden refused to mention for fear of scaring the detective off.

"I don't see why you worry," Sherlock said, "you're plenty interesting."

"Thanks," Hayden said in surprise, "but Sherlock my entire wellbeing rests in Mycroft remaining interested. I can count on one hand the number of people I know, and you know all of them too."

"I'm sure by now you could make a living for yourself," Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh yes, because you don't need some proof you're an actual person to I don't know, apply for jobs and the like?"

"I'm sure you could find a decent fake certificate for a reasonable price."

"For now I'll just keep Mycroft interested." Hayden said, "I'd prefer to do this without having to fake an ID."


	28. Promises

"Goddamnit Sherlock," John grumbled when he caught up to the duo as they left the museum, "Do you have to keep leaving me behind."

Hayden sent John a sheepish smile as she led them out into the fresh air. The museum was set on a busy street but luckily Hayden was able to avoid running into anyone. She looked up to see Raz and grinned she couldn't wait to see how John would react to the young man.

"Sherlock!" Raz called, getting the detective's attention.

"Oh, look who it is," John groaned but everyone ignored him.

"Found something you'll like," Raz offered to Sherlock, already leading the group away from the museum and to the south bank of the Thames.

"Tuesday morning, all you've got to do is turn up and say the bag was yours," John informed the younger man irritatedly.

"Forget about your court date," Sherlock demanded from where he was walking next to Hayden.

Hayden watched somewhat bitterly as people skateboarded and rollerbladed around the under bridge skate park. She knew it was pointless to be envious but she missed being able to move around like they did. She'd gotten a longboard for her high school graduation and had started practicing soon after. Admittedly she had never gotten good but she had fun when she was on the board.

"You want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say?" Raz mused as he stopped the group in front of a section of the graffitied wall. "People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message. Here. I spotted it earlier."

"They've been here," Sherlock mused, quickly glancing around the skate park, trying to find anything that the young man in front of him had missed. "And that's the exact same paint?"

"Yeah," Raz confirmed with a lopsided grin.

"John, if we're going to decipher this code, we need to look for more evidence," Sherlock said before stalking off.

John glanced at Hayden who wasn't paying attention to the group but instead staring out at the skateboarders. He was tempted to just let her stare for a few moments but they really needed to move and he wasn't about to leave her behind.

"You coming?" John asked.

Hayden shook herself out of her stupor before looking up at John who was staring at her with worry. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile before shaking her head.

"Nah, I'm gonna get home and take a much-needed shower." She told him, "can you just make sure Sherlock actually tells me what's going on this time?"

"Sure thing," John replied before turning and running in the direction that Sherlock had taken off in.

"If you want I can help you back to the road." Raz offered, already reaching for the handles of her chair. Hayden grabbed the wheels and rounded sharply on the man, surprising him into stepping back.

"You touch my chair and I will make sure you're not able to spray paint again," She growled before getting herself to the road, ignoring the looks everyone gave her as she fumed.


	29. Mistakes

"I'm not going," Hayden repeated as she glared up at the younger Holmes brother, "I am going to stay in my lovely apartment and relax as you to go out and risk your lives."

"I thought you wanted to help on the case?" Sherlock reminded her coldly.

"Just get out," Hayden snapped, "If you're not going to trust my judgment now then how the hell are you going to trust my judgment when our lives are in danger?"

Hayden rolled her eyes when Sherlock simply spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. She followed him in order to slam the door shut once he was out of the room.

Muttering under her breath Hayden went to make herself some tea before she got to work on the case. She brought her finished drink back to the couch and then hoisted herself from her chair to the sofa. She reached out and pushed her chair away only to realize that now she was stranded on the couch.

Hayden let out a curse.

She didn't know she was crying until she found that her nose was starting toe get stuffed. She let out a huff of a breath before searching around herself for her phone. When she couldn't find it, she grabbed a pillow and brought it to her face before screaming into the floral object.

Giving up, Hayden brought her legs up onto the couch, pulling them up from under her thigh, and flopped back onto the couch. She laid there until she fell into a fitful sleep thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling later.


	30. Sherlock, Shakespeare, and Sweethearts

Sherlock looked over at Hayden who was intently reading one of the books that had been brought in. She had practically demanded that the books be brought to her flat so that she could help. Sherlock had cooperated, finding he was almost grateful for Hayden's quiet companionship. He hadn't commented on her red eyes when he and John came back three hours earlier to find Hayden stranded on the couch.

It was much preferable to John's heavy snores.

"Let him sleep," Hayden said as Sherlock moved to shake John awake.

"Why?"

"He's been helping you non-stop, Sherlock. Plus, you don't really need him for this, I'm quieter and I don't complain nearly as much and you know you appreciate it." Hayden said with a smirk, not even looking up from the book she had been checking.

Sherlock didn't answer, he merely sat back in his chair and picked up another book. When he found that the book didn't have the code he threw it across the room. Hayden looked up with a raised eyebrow before looking at the book he had thrown.

"Really? Shakespeare does not deserve that treatment, Sherlock. It doesn't matter what you feel about the guy that book did nothing."

"I like Shakespeare," Sherlock said quietly as he went to pick the book up and put it on the pile of useless books.

"Really?" Hayden asked, eyes wide.

"What? Is it really surprising?" Sherlock asked.

"I always assumed that Billy was the skull of some famous serial killer from the 1600s not a reference to Hamlet," Hayden said with a small smile.

"Can't it be both?" Sherlock asked with an answering smile.

The both of them returned to the books without another word. Hayden wasn't really concentrating on the books but thinking instead of ways to convince Sherlock to see a play with her. She'd always wanted to see a play at the Globe but had been too nervous to go on her own.

She knew how people in her situation could be treated in public, it had happened to her before, and she really didn't want to go through that again. It was either people giving her uncomfortable looks or people attempting to help her. Once someone had had the gall to push her chair without her permission.

It was why she preferred going out with John, Sherlock or even Lestrade when he was available. The three of them knew not to offer and were able to scare away the overly personal helpers.

It was five minutes later that Hayden realized Sherlock was staring at her. She looked over at him with a frown to see that he was actually in his mind palace. With a sigh Hayden went to make tea for the two of them, not noticing the way that Sherlock's gaze followed her like he was trying to figure something out.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked suddenly when Hayden was sipping her own cup of tea, having placed Sherlock's in its usual place on the side table.

Hayden raised an eyebrow at the man but sighed when he didn't move, "I'm fine."

"You did just see someone murdered," Sherlock murmured, seeming almost concerned in his curiousness.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Hayden told him, taking another drink of her tea, "I'm a criminal profiler, after all, it's not without its perils."

Sherlock huffed a breath, shifting in his seat to lean towards Hayden, "you weren't a criminal profiler back in the States, though."

"You're right," Hayden said, "I was more of a volunteer criminal profiler."

"How exactly does that work?" Sherlock wondered, bringing his hands together under his chin.

"I made criminal profiles based on facts I was given about cases from my ex-boyfriend, who was a cop at the time," Hayden said with a grin.

"Are people usually happy when they talk about their ex-lovers?" Sherlock wondered.

Hayden shrugged, "I've never been one to hold a grudge. It didn't work out between us and we broke up on good terms. Or at least, I was on good terms, who knows what he was actually thinking."


	31. Anthea Needs to Choose a Name

Her name was Lisa the morning she picked Hayden up for her Thursday session of her (figure out the timeline) week of physical therapy. She quickly noticed the bags under Hayden's eyes but chose not to comment on it. She had been kept up to date on what the quartet staying at the various 221 flats had been up to.

Lisa had been gone on a top secret mission for Mycroft (involving Germany and a tie pin). She had returned the night for only to find that the man who was supposed to get Hayden to her sessions had gone missing. She had decided to go herself, wanting to make sure that the job got done properly.

Hayden gave Lisa a polite smile but didn't speak, she liked that about the woman. Lisa could see that Hayden was smarter than she let on. She read people like a book and seemed to just know exactly how to act in every situation.

With Sherlock Hayden was honest and patient, with John she was kind and selfless, with Mycroft she was serious and a tad bit cunning and when she was with Lisa she was quiet and observant.

She hadn't quite pinpointed what it was that got Mycroft interested in the young woman sitting next to her, but Lisa found that she didn't care. Whatever it was she was grateful for the silent companionship she got every time she was with Ms. Skinner.

"I think-" Hayden said before hesitating, "I think I'd like to see Mycroft after today's session."

"No problem, Ms. Skinner," Lisa said, "I'll let him know."


	32. Mycroft Ain't so Bad

Hayden grimaced at the blatant disgust on the face of the desk worker for the Diogenes club that Mycroft was a part of. Rather than signing everything as Hayden had expected he had actually gotten out a piece of paper and was writing everything instead. Hayden rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers to get the man's attention.

 _I may be in a wheelchair but I am not stupid,_ Hayden signed to the man, much to his surprise, _I would think that an employee of such a prestigious club would know not to be so judgemental. I am here to see Mycroft Holmes._

With a nod the man came out from behind the desk, disappearing from view for a moment. Hayden was pleased to find that the man was a lot shorter than he appeared behind the desk. With a barely concealed snort, Hayden followed the man to the elevator. He swiped his card and typed in a pin, which he blocked from Hayden's view, and then let her into the elevator. As soon as the door started closing the man made his way back to his desk.

Hayden knocked on the door to Mycroft's private room and waited for him to let her in. She started rolling herself in a choppy circle as she looked around the waiting room. She wasn't really that surprised that he even had a waiting room. The more she got to know the man the more she realized that he was a lot richer than he needed to be.

"What a pleasant surprise, Ms. Skinner," Mycroft greeted after Hayden was settled into his office. She grimaced at the formal greeting but decided not to comment on it, "what can I do for you?"

"Why do you help me so much?" Hayden asked, getting the question out as fast as she could, "I'm not complaining, I just want to know what makes me so interesting or whatever so I can keep doing that."

"We've had this conversation before, Hayden," Mycroft reminded her almost gently.

"I know sorry, I just," Hayden trailed off and Mycroft glared at her impatiently.

"What is it?" He demanded, his voice gentler than Hayden had expected it to be.

"I'm not making the progress I was hoping to make and it's frustrating," Hayden finally admitted, "I know I'm making excellent progress but it's… I miss being able to do everything on my own."

Mycroft sighed and stood up, walking over to a rolling cart set up full of teas and desserts. He poured two cups of tea and handed one to Hayden before grabbing two lemon tea cakes and placing one in front of Hayden and taking the other for himself.

"Drink that," Mycroft ordered when Hayden just sat there looking at the tea. She listened, lifting the cup to her mouth.

"Chamomile," she noted after her first sip, "with a dollop of honey and a dash of lemon juice. You remembered?"

"You have such odd tastes it's kind of hard not to," Mycroft admitted and Hayden smiled softly at the man.

"Thanks."

The two fell into a comfortable silence while they finished their cake and tea. Mycroft set his cup gently on the desk when he was done and waited for Hayden to finish as well before he started talking.

"Now what exactly is causing this drop in your normal levels of confidence?" Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow that practically ordered Hayden, to tell the truth.

"I was talking with Sherlock-" Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her and Hayden rolled her eyes, "as I was saying I was talking to your brother and it got me thinking and I need to know why you're helping me. Like, are there any conditions that I need to be aware of? I'm pretty much fucked if you stop helping me so it would be -"

"Hayden," Mycroft interrupted sharply, "you're rambling, stop."

"Sorry," Hayden apologized sheepishly.

"Hayden, I am going to continue to support you until a time that I see that you are capable of supporting yourself," Mycroft said, "the only condition is that you continue to report to me on the proceedings of my brother."

"Which I have been doing, okay," Hayden took a deep breath, covering her face with a hand, "sorry, I just…" she looked up, regarding Mycroft for a moment, "you're aware that I was told that my only chance of walking again is years of physical therapy and no less than three surgeries and that even then it would only be possible for short amounts of time."

"I was made aware," Mycroft said, "and whatever you decide to do you have my support."


	33. Dates and Whatnot

The day started like any other. Hayden laid in bed for ten minutes after her first alarm and slammed her fist on the clock next to her bed when it went off again approximately three minutes after she had finally gotten to her chair.

She then took a shower and changed before going out to the kitchen and starting the kettle for tea. She grabbed frozen fruit from the freezer and made a smoothie for herself before going into the living room to enjoy her breakfast.

Things started to change about thirty minutes later when Sherlock burst through the front door in a huff. He glared at Hayden and flopped down on her couch. She smiled at him as he picked up a book to go through but otherwise ignored the man.

Sherlock barging into her living room was normal. The two working alone together was also normal. What wasn't normal was when Hayden was done with her food Sherlock cleared away the dishes and Hayden didn't throw anything at him for doing so.

Other than that the day was normal. John joined them at a more normal hour and then went to work. Hayden went to work and came back. Sherlock was still in his spot on the couch reading book after book.

"A book that everybody would own," Sherlock muttered after hours of only pages being turned filling the flat.

"I need to get some air," John groaned, running his hands through his hair.

John stood from his spot and after a nod to Hayden left the room to get ready for his date. Sherlock didn't even bother looking up from his book. Not that it surprised either of them.

"We're going out tonight," Sherlock said, barely glancing at John.

"Actually, I've got a date," John told him, nearly relishing in the look of shock he received from Sherlock. It was a rarity to render the detective speechless.

"What?" Sherlock asked, surprised that the doctor already had plans.

"Where two people who like each other go out and have fun?" John reiterated

"That's what I was suggesting," Sherlock replied

"No, it wasn't," Hayden told the man.

"At least, I hope not," John added on.

"And if it was you just broke the poor man's heart, shame on you, John Watson, shame." Hayden grinned at the man, pleased with his troubled face.

"I- what?" John stammered

"No worries, he wasn't suggesting it in the same sense," Hayden assured, winking at the doctor, "Where are you taking her?"

"Er, cinema," John replied, shaking his head.

"Dull, boring, predictable Why don't you try this?" Sherlock said, handing John a flier for a circus.

"In London for one night only," Hayden grinned, "Don't wanna miss it."

"Thanks," John said with a nervous laugh, "but I don't come to you for dating advice."

"I'm wounded, John," Hayden gasped, raising her hand to her chest, "truly I am."

"I-" John started, Only for Hayden to interrupt him.

"Look, Sherlock will buy the tickets for you two," Hayden said, raising an eyebrow at the detective until he caught on with her plan and picked up his cell phone, "just enjoy a night out with Sarah, being unpredictable is a big hit with the ladies."

"I never told you her name," John raised an eyebrow at the younger woman.

"Just enjoy your date you old man," Hayden laughed, pushing herself so that she was forcing John out of the room, "be glad you aren't stuck here with Mr. Holmes."


	34. Tickets

Hayden groaned when, for the third time in ten minutes, Sherlock stopped what he was doing to stare at her intently. She was tempted to throw the book that was resting in her lap at the man but quickly thought better of it. She raised a brow at the detective, hoping it would be enough to get him to ask what he wanted to ask.

"Why are you helping me? With John, I mean," Sherlock wondered after only a moment, "Surely you know this is related to the case."

"Of course I know it's related to the case, Sherlock, I'm not oblivious," Hayden grinned, "and besides, the cinema is a boring first date."

"And where would you go on a first date?" Sherlock asked, seemingly invested in the answer.

"Somewhere unpredictable," Hayden said after a moment, "which is rather difficult seeing as most unpredictable places are no longer… accessible."

"Hmmm," was the only response that Hayden received before Sherlock turned back to the books.

The two sat in silence for a few more moments before Hayden rolled into the kitchen to prepare some tea. She considered the effects of telling Sherlock which book he needed to be looking at but decided against it. Telling him now would probably screw something up to the point where Moriarty was actually able to do the damage that the criminal mastermind intended.

"Did you call them back?" Hayden asked a short while later, having just put down another book that she'd flipped through absently.

"Yes," Sherlock said, looking up from the book he was reading through, "I requested two more tickets."

"And is this place accessible?" Hayden wondered, raising a brow at the man.

"Yes," Sherlock assured before setting his book down, "in fact, we'll be leaving in thirty minutes if you'd like to get ready."

"Alrighty," Hayden said before wheeling herself to the bedroom to change into more appropriate clothing, "you better call for a taxi this time, I'm not waiting again, I'll be out in ten minutes."


	35. Sarah Sawyer

"You said this place was accessible," Hayden growled at Sherlock as he helped her over yet another bump, "I would not call this accessible."

"There's an elevator in the building," Sherlock murmured, "I figured you'd want to be there."

"As much as i want to crack this case, Sherlock, I'm not a fan of being inconvenienced by things like stairs and bumps in the fucking road." Hayden told the man, glaring at nothing as they entered the building which was decorated with lanterns on the outside.

Sherlock ignored her as they entered the elevator and pushed the button for the second story. They were let out in an old looking lobby and Hayden groaned as Sherlock interrupted, having heard the tail end of a conversation about four tickets, instead of two.

"And then I phoned back and got two more," Sherlock said before offering his hand to Sarah, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh," The brunette said, surprised at the sudden introduction, "Uh, hi."

"Sorry about him," Hayden apologized, glaring up at the detective, as he walked away "he's not the brightest, despite what he and some others might think. Hayden Skinner, friend of John's."

"Oh, it's nice to meet you," Sarah said blinking after Sherlock.

"Uh, sorry, Sarah, can you accompany me to the restroom, it's kinda difficult to go myself and the last time I brought Sherlock he almost got arrested," Hayden wondered, wanting to give Sherlock and John time to talk, "I'm joking of course, he almost got arrested for other reasons."

Sarah looked at John questioningly before nodding at Hayden, "Uh, sure?"

"Thanks," Hayden said with a relieved smile before asking the ticket master where the restroom was.


	36. Accessibility

"You said this place was accessible," Hayden glared at Sherlock again as he and John helped her up a ledge, "if there's a fire you are staying with me so we both die in here. Because this, asshole, is not accessible."

"I already said that-" Sherlock started only to be interrupted by Hayden purposely running over the man's feet.

"Having an elevator does not make a place accessible, dick wad," Hayden growled, "They didn't even have a stall for people using wheelchairs."

"Oh," Sherlock hummed.

Hayden rolled her eyes as she turned away, fuming. She knew better than to take Sherlock's word on whether or not a place was really accessible. As she thought about it, she became more and more angry at herself. She should have remembered that the 'circus' was not a place she should go. She was just wanting to be more involved in the case, she was tired of getting left behind.

She'd been pulled along at Sherlock's tempo and she was regretting it deeply as the lights changed and a drumbeat started up. Hayden glared at Sherlock one more time, ignoring his conversation with John, before turning to enjoy the show. She may as well get something out of this disaster of a trip.

A woman in traditional Chinese clothing walked on stage and acknowledged the audience. She moved to a covered station and unveiled it before grabbing a feathered arrow and presenting to the room. She placed the arrow in the contraption and pulled a feather from her headpiece before dropping it in a bowl at the end.

The arrow immediately released and there was a collective gasp from the audience.

Hayden jumped, feeling her heart pound at the display of what the contraption could do. She was regretting coming here more and more. Especially when she couldn't get her heartbeat under control. She groaned a little when she realized what was happening.

She was having a panic attack.

In public.

Hayden forced herself to turn her head to Sherlock to find that the man wasn't there anymore. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned as she tried to keep her breathing even. It wasn't until there was a hand on her shoulder that Hayden realized she'd started to hyperventilate.

"Hayden, you're okay," the woman heard but it was a fuzzy noise that blended into the background of her heartbeat. "Hayden I need you to breath with me."

"Is she okay?" Sarah asked and Hayden would have smiled at the concern if she was able to concentrate on anything but breathing with the army doctor that was counting for her.

"You're okay, Hayden, deep breaths, nicely done." John continued, helping Hayden through her panic.

They'd done this many times but never in public. Hayden was always very careful to stay away from people when she felt like she might have a panic attack. It wasn't just for her comfort but also for the comfort of the people around her. She knew it couldn't be pleasant to see.

"Where is Sherlock?" John breathed after presumably glancing around, "I'm gonna kill that sod."

Hayden felt her breathing coming back into her control when a crash nearby destroyed all the effort she had put into calming down. Her breathing picked up and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to find her happy place.

"Sarah, stay with Hayden," John ordered, army training kicking in as he moved to help Sherlock.

Hayden felt a new presence in front of her and tried to focus on the new face. She took a deep breath, per the woman's orders, and another and another until she could breathe on her own command.

By the time Hayden was calmer the altercation between Sherlock and the smugglers was over. She smiled warily at Sarah and John but completely ignored Sherlock as she pushed herself to the elevator. She had begrudgingly accepted Sherlock's help to get down the ledge, but only because Sarah wasn't comfortable doing it herself.

"You're angry," Sherlock said as they waited for the cops outside the building.

"No shit, Sherlock," Hayden gritted out.

"But not angry enough to completely ignore me," Sherlock hummed, "which means your anger is mostly with yourself and entirely misplaced."

Hayden blinked in shock and glanced up at the consulting detective to see that he was standing with his hands clasped in front of him, staring forward. Hayden allowed a small smile before looking forward as well.

"I'm still pissed at you," Hayden said after a moment.

"Understood," Sherlock agreed readily.

"You're going to have to make it up to me," the woman hummed.

"Okay," Sherlock responded, his voice giving nothing away.

"Maybe I'll have you hang out with me and Sally one of these days," Hayden mused, glancing up at Sherlock with a grin.

"You do not get along with Sally Donovan," Sherlock said, glancing down at Hayden.

"True," Hayden agreed, "but I do get along fairly well with a certain brother of yours."

They waited in silence once more, the sound of sirens distant but steadily coming closer. Hayden glanced at Sarah and John who were talking to each other quietly, John evidently apologizing for the night's events.

"You'll need to make it up to John as well," Hayden reminded the detective, earning herself a raised eyebrow from the man, "you know you crashed his date, Sherlock. Do you honestly not understand why that might upset him or are you choosing to ignore it?"

Sherlock hummed, rather than answering the woman and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You're insufferable," Hayden groaned as the cops showed up, "Oh hey, Sally's here, I might as well ask her to hang out later right now."

"We're leaving," Sherlock said, getting the attention of John and Sarah as he walked over to a taxi that had also just shown up.


	37. The Missing Link

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John said as the four of them sat in Hayden's living room, Sherlock immediately started looking at the pictures hanging over Hayden's mantle.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for," Sherlock replied absently, "We need to find their hideout; the rendezvous."

Hayden joined Sherlock in observing the pictures but found that she couldn't focus on them. Instead, she turned to go into the kitchen and was surprised to see Sarah hovering in the doorway, having forgotten she was there.

"Sarah, would you like some tea?" Hayden asked, not waiting for a response as she entered the kitchen and started gathering what she would need.

"Oh, would you like some help?" Sarah asked, taking a cup from Hayden's hands. The woman glared at the doctor before letting out a deep breath.

"I'll be fine," Hayden assured, "if you could just wait out in the living room that would be great, I don't really like other people in my kitchen."

"Oh, uh, sorry I just-" Sarah started, "I'll go out there then."

"Thank you, Sarah," Hayden smiled reassuringly at the woman before getting back to work.

"Somewhere in this message, it _must_ tell us," Sherlock murmured as he and John continued to stare at the mantle, ignoring the two women.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it," Sarah sighed and Hayden shook her head, knowing that she had been a large part of the woman feeling uncomfortable.

"No, no, you don't have to go... " John reassured, looking at Sherlock before turning back to Sarah, "You can stay."

"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now," Sherlock said at the same time as John.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John assured after glaring at Sherlock.

"Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" Sarah asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ooh, God," Sherlock groaned, rolling her eyes.

"John," Hayden called, getting the man's attention, "I've got some cookies, excuse me, _biscuits,_ for you and Sarah."

"Hayden, you're a saint," John murmured, planting a kiss into Hayden's hair.

"Thank Mrs. Hudson," Hayden laughed, swatting John's arm, "I asked her to lay out a plate on our taxi ride over. Too bad it's not Monday though, she would have been at the supermarket."

John raised an eyebrow and Hayden and she grinned at him, "Her words, not mine."

* * *

So this is what you do, you, Hayden, and John. You solve puzzles for a living," Sarah said, watching Sherlock filter through some files that Hayden had been looking through earlier.

"Consulting detective," Sherlock corrected, not looking at the woman.

"Oh," Sarah accepted, glancing back to see if John or Hayden would save her anytime soon.

* * *

"I stand by my previous statement, saint you are," John said, with a grin, sneaking a cookie for himself.

"Yoda am I," Hayden teased with a grin, "Saint, I am not."

"You're insufferable," John groaned teasingly,

"I am not Sherlock," Hayden grinned back.

* * *

"What are these squiggles?" Sarah wondered, taking a closer look at the pictures.

"They're numbers," Sherlock said, his voice faux calm, "An ancient Chinese dialect."

"Oh, right!" Sarah giggled, Sherlock, making her nervous, "Yeah, well, of course, I should have known that."

"So these numbers – it's a cipher," Sarah said, taking one of the pictures off the mantle to get a closer look.

"Exactly," Sherlock said tightly, knowing that both Hayden and John would be upset if he snapped at the woman and not wanting to put up with them.

"And each pair of numbers is a word," Sarah noted, seeing the deciphering that Soo Lin had already done.

"How did you know that?" Sherlock asked, finally looking at the woman

"Well, two words have already been translated, here," Sarah pointed out, surprised that the consulting detective hadn't already noticed.

"John," Sherlock called, drawing both John and Hayden out of the kitchen.

"Mmm?" John answered

"John, look at this," Sherlock says, taking the photo out of its evidence bag and showing it to the man, "Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it! _NINE, MILL_."

"Does that mean 'millions'?" John asked, squinting at the photo.

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock agreed before going to pick up his coat and scarf from where he had thrown them earlier. "We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John wondered as he, Hayden and Sarah watched Sherlock rush to put on his coat.

"To the museum; to the restoration room." He grimaced, exasperated with himself "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At-at what?" John wondered, completely lost.

"The _book_ , John. The _book_ – the key to cracking the cipher!" Sherlock explained, "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."

With that, Sherlock was gone.


	38. The Tunnel

The pounding in her head and the gag in her mouth was making Hayden panic. She had no memory of how she came to be where she was and her drug-clouded mind was slipping in its attempt to recall the details she knew from the show she had watched what felt like lifetimes ago.

Hayden opened her eyes to be met by a flickering light in an otherwise complete darkness. She attempted to cry out but the gag was muffling her sounds. She couldn't see anything by the light but the muffled sound of voices reassured that she at least hadn't been left to die.

* * *

"I'm not-," John spit out angrily. He glanced over at Hayden who was just on the edge of his peripherals before looking at Sarah who was struggling in her bonds. He could feel his resentment for the woman in front of him grow at the resignation he'd seen in Hayden's eyes. "I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."

"I need a volunteer from the audience," Shan announced suddenly, ignoring John's words.

"No, please, please!" John said as the General gestured towards Sarah.

* * *

"Ah, thank you, lady," Her voice slithered like a snake over Hayden's ears, causing the girl to shudder, "Yes, you'll do very nicely."

Hayden cried out suddenly, feeling a spasm rock the lower half of her body. She bit at the gag, thankful that it prevented her from biting her tongue, as she tried to gain control over her breathing.

Shan spoke in muffled tones to one of her underlings her went over to Hayden and stabbed a needle into her shoulder. The young woman whimpered before her world went black again.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant, moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act," Shan continued once the disruption was taken care of, ignoring John's protests, "You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John yelled, looking wildly between Sarah and Hayden.

"I don't believe you," Shan snapped as she cut the sandbag that kept the arrow from shooting.

"You should, you know," A baritone voice cut in, causing Shan and her men to spin in an attempt to locate the source and John to let out a sigh of relief, "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Late?" John supplied under his breath.

"That's a semi-automatic," Sherlock pointed out as Shan lifted her gun to aim at him, "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over 1,000 meters per second."

"Well?" Shan wondered.

"Well," Sherlock continued before knocking over one of the burning bins, "the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."

In the near darkness, Sherlock rushed to free Sarah as the sand poured out of its bag. He was soon interrupted, however, by a cloth around his throat that pulled him away from the woman.

John struggled to get to the contraption before it set off. The rocking of his chair caused him to tip over, hitting his head on the ground. But seeing Sherlock's struggled, he doubled his efforts and managed to kick the arrow away from Sarah at the last moment. In a stroke of luck, the arrow released and hit Sherlock's assailant. Causing the assassin to release Sherlock who immediately took in a gasping breath.

"It's all right," John reassured his date as Sherlock untied her before quickly moving to help Hayden. Sarah gasped as she pulled her gag out before moving to help John out of his own bindings. "You're going to be all right. It's over now. Don't worry. Next date won't be like this."

Sarah managed a weak smile as the four of them, Sherlock carrying the unconscious Hayden, left the underground.


	39. Doctor Johnston

She didn't open her eyes immediately, the steady burn of a tube down her throat keying her into where she was and bringing her back to the time, not that long ago, where she'd been in the same spot. Although that time she hadn't had assisted breathing. Hayden was almost scared to wake up, fearing what this could mean for her.

"I know you're awake," the baritone voice of Sherlock soothed Hayden, letting her know that nothing was seriously wrong if he was there and not Mycroft. "The doctor is on his way, just go back to sleep, Hayden."

The next time she woke the tube was gone and her room was dark. Hayden tried to figure out how long she had been asleep but there was no indicator for the passage of time present. When she tried to move to call a nurse she found that her arm, which had been free before, was now encased in a plaster cast.

Hayden closed her eyes with a sigh as tears started to form. It wasn't that anything hurt really, in fact, she could feel no pain at all. It was that a hopelessness was starting to settle in her chest, the feeling that she would never be the way she was before and the knowledge that someday she would have to be okay with that.

* * *

She woke hours later to a nurse checking her vitals. Hayden blinked the sleep away and simply waited for the nurse to notice her, rather than having to speak. She was not in a talkative mood.

"Oh, hello dear," The older woman said. She looked to be around fifty years old with kind brown eyes set into a dark face. Her hair was dreaded and tied back with a blue ribbon that cascaded down her back. "Sorry, I didn't notice you were awake."

She waited for Hayden's response but continued like she hadn't paused when none came.

"My name is Kahina, once I finish with my check I'll have Doctor Johnston in to update you on your condition." Kahina smiled kindly as she continued with her check, chatting to Hayden like they'd been friends for years, despite Hayden's lack of a response.

Sometime after Kahina had left Doctor Johnston came in followed by Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. Doctor Johnston was closer to Hayden's age than she was expecting, probably in his late twenties, early thirties, but Hayden wasn't really concerned about it if Mycroft trusted him.

"Nice to see you awake, Ms. Skinner. I'm Doctor Johnston. Usually, I don't take cases such as yours since I'm in pediatrics, but I specialize in spinal injuries and Mycroft flew me in from America to help," Johnston told her as he read her chart.

The three other men settled in chairs to the side as Doctor Johnston went about his job, explaining things as he did them. Hayden relaxed as she listened to the familiar lilt to his voice that reminded her of home, a place she hadn't thought of in a while between her job, visits Mycroft's and helping Sherlock on his cases.

When there was a pause in the conversation Hayden realized that Doctor Johnston and her friends were waiting for a response from her. She blushed but asked for the doctor to repeat his question.

"I was wondering if you've thought of using a power chair rather than you're manual." Doctor Johnston repeated kindly, "my sister was born with a fused spinal cord and despite years of surgeries and physical therapy, she has difficulties walking for long distances. A power chair will really open up the world for you."

"So what you're saying is that I'm probably not gonna walk again," Hayden reiterated, her voice flat.

"I'm afraid the chances of that are very slim, Ms. Skinner," Doctor Johnston informed, "I will be able to help your condition but it'll be up to your body to do most of the work."

"Alright," Hayden said, "I'll consider the chair, in the meantime may I get caught up with my friends?"

"Of course, Ms. Skinner, let me or Kahina know if your need anything."

"Thank you, Doctor Johnston."


	40. Going Home

Three days later Hayden was released from the hospital. She still had a cast on her right arm and the bruises on her hip were just starting to fade. No one knew how she received those injuries, Mycroft thought it was from when she was first kidnapped by Shang and her men.

If John and Sherlock were bothered by the change in mood on Hayden's part neither of them mentioned it. Hayden was a lot more reserved than usual, simply going to work at Scotland Yard, returning home and finishing up paperwork until it was a reasonable hour for her to sleep.

This continued for three weeks until John decided he'd had enough. When Hayden got home from work that night she found both John and Sherlock sitting on the couch in her living room. She frowned at them before rolling past and into the kitchen. She'd listened to Doctor Johnston's advice and had gotten a power chair last week.

"What do you guys want?" Hayden demanded when she had a cup of tea and was sitting on the couch in between the two men.

"Hayden, what's wrong?" John wondered, "I know you've had a lot going on recently but you know that we're here for you, right?"

Hayden looked between the two and sighed, she took a sip of her tea before she started talking, "I know you guys are, but neither of you really know what I'm going through."

"Then explain," Sherlock said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, and maybe it was.

And so she did explain, not for the first time, everything that had happened to her. From watching Sherlock on Netflix at home to waking up on the streets of London, to getting assaulted, to her recent realization that even with her knowledge of everything that was going to happen she wasn't going to be able to change anything.

"Honestly, guys, I just want to go home."

* * *

 **A/N: Honestly guys, I am humbled by the support I've received writing this story. I know that I need to edit bits and pieces to fill some plot holes, fix some information that was given that was inaccurate and all that jazz but for the moment this story is completed. No worries though! The sequel titled _Privacy Policy_ is in the works. I'll have the first few chapters up before the end of summer for sure. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this work. I had a blast writing this. Also, just thought I'd let you know that this is the first piece of written work that I've ever completed. **

**Much love, Ryn**


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